


Broken Home

by lottielovebuzz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Dean's Birthday, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 21:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lottielovebuzz/pseuds/lottielovebuzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean turns 35 and has to celebrate it alone, in a cheap sleazy motel. Only, he's not as alone as he seems to think when he receives a voicemail from the family he left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Home

**Author's Note:**

> so. i need to write something for my baby's birthday, and the reason it took so long was because writing Dean and angst is something that i don't like doing. i mean, 9 times out of 10 i enjoy the outcome, but i can't sit down and write Dean x Angst in one sitting; it causes me too much pain!!

When the first drop of rain falls, it's 10:54pm. 

One hour and six minutes left of the day; one hour and six minutes left of the 23rd of January, and it's starting to rain. It beats off the window, creating a steady rhythm, a beat similar to the tap of fingers against wood. It helps him drown out his thoughts, helps him forget that this is the first time in _years_ that he's celebrating his birthday alone. 

It's his own fault, though, he was the fucking idiot that let some stupid fucking Angel possess him brother. He was the desperate, worried, big brother who couldn't stand the thought that he was going to lose his baby brother. That's why he's going to be alone on his 35th birthday.

It's all his fault. It's always his fault.  

***

When the clock reads 11:55pm, he moves for the first time since he arrived in the sleazy motel with a bottle of Jack. 

It's not much; it's not him getting up, checking out, getting into the Impala and driving back to the Bunker so he can be with the two people he loves most in the world. He just moves from the bed to the seat from the window. 

He wonders why the hell he moved from the bed as soon as he sits down. Sure the bed wasn't as good as his own bed that remembers him, but it's better than _this_. The cushion has been reduced to nothing more than a thin sheet, spread over the wood and metal that gives it structure, causing more pain than comfort. It digs into his ribs and thighs as he sits on it, angling himself towards the window. 

Rain continues to pelt against the window; there's a crack on the windowsill where the rain manages to seep through, coating the white plastic with a thin layer of water. 

His green eyes zone in on one particular raindrop, following it as it's thrown against the window, before it slowly drips down the glass in a zigzag pattern, swallowing up other drops and Dean can't help but see himself. Good intents, always the good intent or drive that gets others killed. 

That's why he's here. 

That's why he's here, alone, in a motel, on his fucking birthday.

He takes another sip of Jack and decides to keep going; drowning himself in whiskey seems like a good idea right now. 

***

When he wakes up at 2:27am, it's because there's a buzzing; a pulse vibrating against his cheek and it's both annoying and sensual. He groans, eyes creaking open before slamming shut when he realises he didn't turn the light off.

His head throbs and churns, fighting through the fog the Jack made; trying to resurface through those thoughts that he was drinking to bury. 

By the time he feels the glass of his cellphone pressing against his cheek, the vibrations have stopped. He groans again and searches mindlessly for the phone, his sweat-slicked skin sticking to the front and with a hiss, he pulls it off and checks the screen.

His eyes slam shut when the brightness from the screen glares into his eyes. A second and a deep breath later, Dean reopens his eyes to see why his phone was buzzing.

> _Four missed calls; two voicemails; one text._

'Wha-?' He mutters sleepily as he runs a hand over his face, knuckles digging into his eyes, trying to rid himself of the blurriness still plaguing his vision. 

He unlocks his phone, briefly checking the text from Charlie - Oz really seems to have amazing reception - before he then clicks on the small phone icon to see who the hell was phoning him. 

> _Four missed calls from_ **_Cas_ ** _._

He rolls his eyes and then clicks on the voicemail button, waiting to see what Cas had to say to him. 

' _Hello Dean, happy birthday from Sam and I. I've finally managed to talk him into calling you, so here -_ ' 

Dean smirks when he hears Cas in the background after moving away from the phone, muttering about how it's finally time Sam talked to his brother. It falls off his face a second later when Sam's voice filters through a moment later. 

' _Hey Dean, uh, happy birthday, bro. Thirty-five, who'd've thought you'd see that, eh? I know you didn't but… look, you made a dick move-_ '

_'Do you_ ** _really_** _need to bring that up, Sam? On his birthday?_ ' Cas' voice cuts in but Sam doesn't reply, just continues on as if he hasn't been interrupted and Dean's smirk returns then. The two of them have been bonding then. 

' _But I'm still glad you're here, even though you're not_ ** _here_** _, so uh, yeah. Happy birthday, Dean._ ' 

The lines beeps and he's greeted with silence for a few moments. Tears well in his eyes and he reaches up to pinch at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, trying to stop the tears before they fall. He goes to shut his phone off, thinking it's the only message, forgetting there was a small "2" on the voicemail symbol. 

However, before he can move, Cas' voice filters through once more.

' _He hung up before I could tell you this_ ,' Cas states first of all, before he dives straight in for it, ' _I love you, Dean and I miss-_ '

The rest of his words go unheard as Dean drops the phone away from his ear, eyes widening before the first tear falls, creating a passage for the others to follow. He closes his eyes and inhales sharply, holding it for as long as he can, trying to calm the shaking in his hands and the somersaults in his stomach, before he shakily exhales. A part of him knew it - always knew it - but hearing him admit it aloud, it's almost too much and almost not enough. He wants to be there, he wants to see his lips form the words, wants to see his eyes sparkle with the emotion and truth behind them, he wants to see Cas again; wants to see Sam again. He wants to wrap Sam up in his arms and wants to finally kiss Cas. 

He wants to go home, despite knowing he can't. 

When he reopens his eyes, his hands are still shaking as they scramble for the phone, unlocking it once more and going straight into his saved voicemails, and when he clicks on it again, letting Cas' deep, gravelly voice wash over him once more, finally hearing all of what he had to say.

' _He hung up before I could tell you this_ ,' Cas states first of all, before he dives straight in for it, ' _I love you, Dean and I miss you. Stay safe, Dean Winchester, and come home soon. Remember you were stupid for the_ ** _right_** _reasons._ '

He lets out and a soft, shaky chuckle before he clicks the replay button to hear it once again.

He plays the message again and again until the darkness of sleep reclaims him. It works better than the Jack Daniels, that's for sure.

**Author's Note:**

> enjoying this fic?? I'd love you forever if you bought me a coffee!! ko-fi.com/cahwrites
> 
> anyway, this didn't turn out like i had hoped but i needed to do SOMETHING for my baby hunter's birthday, so uh, yeah!!. :D


End file.
